Page 390 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

plucked at his left mustache, and began twisting it into his
mouth, a bad habit he had.
‘Well, and what did you do yesterday? Win anything?’
asked Vronsky.

‘Eight thousand. But three don’t count; he won’t pay
up.’
‘Oh, then you can afford to lose over me,’ said
Vronsky, laughing. (Yashvin had bet heavily on Vronsky
in the races.)
‘No chance of my losing. Mahotin’s the only one that’s
risky.’
And the conversation passed to forecasts of the coming
race, the only thing Vronsky could think of just now.
‘Come along, I’ve finished,’ said Vronsky, and getting
up he went to the door. Yashvin got up too, stretching his
long legs and his long back.
‘It’s too early for me to dine, but I must have a drink.
I’ll come along directly. Hi, wine!’ he shouted, in his rich
voice, that always rang out so loudly at drill, and set the
windows shaking now.
‘No, all right,’ he shouted again immediately after.
‘You’re going home, so I’ll go with you.’
And he walked out with Vronsky.

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